Hunter: A Thriller Read Online Free PDF

know. Because the only other possibilities I can think of are insane. And scarier. Such as: Maybe there’s another mole here who tipped off the Russians about where Muller was being held. Or, even crazier: Maybe the hitter himself is somebody inside Langley . Maybe somebody from the Special Activities Division, who might have turned—”
    She smacked her forehead. “I just remembered.”
    “What?”
    “Something that FBI guy, Sully, said. Remember those guest names from the hotels? A man registered as ‘R. Lasher,’ another guy as ‘B.J. Stoddard’?”
    “What about them?”
    “That second name. Grant, do you read thrillers?”
    He scowled. “Little lady, I live thrillers. Why would I need to read them?”
    “Well, I do. Love them, actually. And one of my favorite series is about this guy from Arkansas , named Billy Joe Stoddard.”
    “Okay. B.J. Stoddard—Billy Joe Stoddard. I see it. But so what?”
    She leaned forward, hands on knees, holding his eyes.
    “Billy Joe Stoddard is a former American military sniper.”
    He stared back at her. “Jesus Christ.”
    *
    Garrett draped his suit jacket across the back of his desk chair, then called the cafeteria to send up a fresh pot of coffee and chicken salad sandwiches. After these were delivered, the pair ate in silence. Beyond the window, flesh- colored clouds faded to gray , as if life were bleeding from the sky. He didn’t bother to turn on the office lamps. They sat in the gathering gloom as Garrett torched his way non-stop through the last of his Luckies . The periodic flare of his lighter cut deeper fissures into his stony features.
    For an hour they discussed meanings, possibilities, ramifications. They didn’t like their conclusions.
    “This is certainly going to blow away the task force at tomorrow’s meeting,” she said at last.
    “Not so fast.”
    The aging spymaster mashed out his last glowing butt in the mug, got up, moved to the window. He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, a dark gray silhouette against the lighter gray rectangle. He stared out past the parking lot, out somewhere into the shadow world surrounding the sprawling complex.
    “Annie, we agree that we may have another mole. Somebody high enough in the pecking order here to know that we took Muller to Linden . Maybe somebody with the clout to send out someone else, maybe an SAD guy, to hit him. That would mean somebody right here on the seventh floor, right?”
    “I suppose so.”
    He turned to face her. “So, do you want to alert this person that we’re looking for him?”
    She hadn’t thought of that. She shook her head.
    “If we’re going to nail him, we can’t go through normal channels.”
    She nodded. After a moment, she stood. Walked over to face him.
    “You’re right,” she said. “I don’t want to alert him. I want to be the one to find him.”
    “Oh?” The lights from the parking lot revealed a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
    “Look, sir. I did what you said. I slept on it. And I’d like to accept that transfer offer and work for you.” She hesitated, then added: “But only if my job is to hunt that son of a bitch, sir.”
    He looked down at her and, incredibly, actually smiled again.
    “Grant. Call me Grant.”

 
SIX
    WASHINGTON , D.C. Monday, September 1, 1:25 p.m.
    “ Hell-o , Mr. Hunter!”
    The pretty receptionist sang out the greeting as he entered the suite and approached her desk.
    “And to you, Danika .” He had to smile back, in spite of his foul mood.
    She pushed her lips into a playful pout. “I was thinking you forgot the address here. What’s it been? Two weeks?”
    “I’ve been out of town. On assignment.” A half-truth.
    She rubbed her chin, mock-serious, appraising him. “Now, that’s a bold fashion statement. Shades are nice, though.”
    Hunter removed his Oakley sunglasses and followed her gaze down to his reversible windbreaker. He now wore it garish-orange-side out, the side with the snarling black panther